


What We Pretend To Be

by mirawonderfulstar



Category: Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Autistic Herbert West, Canon-Typical Violence, Deus Ex Carl Hill, Getting Together, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Peru, Post Bride of Reanimator, Two Shot, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22111501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirawonderfulstar/pseuds/mirawonderfulstar
Summary: Dan and Herbert take care of each other.Based on two whump concepts I was talking about with a friend last night: "one character gets injured protecting the other", and "one character ignores the extent of their injuries until they collapse on another character".
Relationships: Daniel Cain/Herbert West
Comments: 8
Kudos: 104





	What We Pretend To Be

One of the many qualities Dan doesn’t know whether to find endearing or irritating about Herbert is how he can carry on talking through complete chaos. He hardly seems to lose the train of his thoughts and can pick right back up where he left off, mid-sentence, as much as an hour and a half later. Dan’s timed it. He’s had ample opportunity to observe this particular quirk since they’ve been in Peru together. 

They’re making their way through the jungle, Herbert hacking methodically through undergrowth with a machete and Dan trailing behind, Herbert seeming to know exactly where he’s going and Dan reluctant to say anything to the contrary because they haven’t gotten lost once yet, after all. And the whole time Herbert is talking about iguanas, about the precise chemical interaction between amniotic fluid and human blood, and Dan has long since tuned out the exact words because he’s heard this at least five times now. That’s another thing about Herbert’s rambling, it’s always recursive. He comes back, again and again, to the same topics. Dan wonders if it’s because he finds it comforting. Dan certainly finds the sound of Herbert’s voice, even caught up in the same things he’s been telling Dan for two months, to be comforting, although he’s not sure he’d ever admit that. 

A loud crack from nearby shakes Dan from his thoughts and he whips his head around to see five soldiers coming towards them. Enemy soldiers. Dan’s hand goes to his gun even as his eyes flick towards Herbert, who doesn’t seem to have noticed. The soldiers are coming up perpendicular to the path Herbert is carving through the jungle, and they are being a good deal quieter than he is. For an instant Dan is frozen, caught between not wanting to give away that they’ve been spotted and sudden, desperate fear for Herbert who is a much more obvious target in this instant than he is. 

One of the soldiers draws his gun and Dan’s mind is made up for him as he shoots the man down. “Herbert!” Dan yells, sprinting towards his companion, who has stopped talking and is turning with an expression of surprise. 

“Get down!” Dan hisses, pushing Herbert to the jungle floor just in time for him to duck out of the way of another gunshot from the remaining soldiers. Dan shoots haphazardly in the direction of movement and hears a cry; they’re down to three, he thinks with some satisfaction. Herbert is pulling out his own gun beside him, and Dan breathes a sigh of relief. 

It is short lived, however, when Dan realizes one of their three remaining attackers has broken away from the others and has looped around behind them. He barely has time to register that they’re in danger before the man has fired his gun, and Dan, his eyes following the line from the gun to Herbert’s back, dives. 

Dan feels metal pierce his shoulder, feels Herbert’s weight behind him as he is thrown back from the force of the impact. He raises his gun in his good hand and shoots his attacker squarely in the chest, and then everything goes hazy. The last thing he is aware of before the world goes black is Herbert’s voice, almost frantic, calling his name. 

Dan wakes in their tent to a head full of cotton and stinging pain in his shoulder. Herbert is leaning over him, his face impassive, stitching him up. He can’t see the wound itself from this angle but he hopes very much that Herbert is nearly done— the anesthetic Dan thought they’d run out of months ago seems to be wearing off. 

“That was _stupid_ , Daniel.” Herbert says, cold fury in his voice. He is determinedly avoiding Dan’s gaze, focused entirely on his shoulder. “We don’t have a working reagent yet. What if you’d been killed?” 

“What if _you’d_ been killed?” Dan counters, and he feels Herbert’s hands slip, feels him fumble the needle against his skin. Herbert’s lips are trembling. “Hey.” Dan says, raising his good hand to Herbert’s cheek, expecting to feel him flinch away from the proffered comfort and relieved when he closes his eyes momentarily and leans into the touch. 

“Stupid.” Herbert mutters again, but his voice has gone brittle, all the bite left him, leaving in its place the Herbert Dan has learned over the past months is almost fragile. Herbert tugs a final stitch into place with shaky fingers, snips the needle free with scissors and drops both into a pan at his elbow. “You could have died, and for what?” 

“To protect you.” Dan says, and marvels at Herbert’s reaction, tears spilling from behind his glasses. “Herbert…” 

“Don’t. Don’t say anything.” Herbert swallows convulsively and he dabs, none too gently, at Dan’s shoulder with a bit of gauze. 

“That hurts.” Dan says, trying to inject humor into his voice, but Herbert flinches nonetheless. 

“Of course it does, you got shot.” 

“I’ll live.” Dan says dryly, and Herbert’s lips twitch into a brief smile. He removes his bloody gloves and one hand goes wandering over Dan’s chest, settling over his heart. Dan watches as Herbert lowers his head to Dan’s chest, and he wishes they were somewhere, anywhere else, a comfortable bed at home in Arkham or just a cheap hotel somewhere they won’t be disturbed by the police or wars to cover up the hunt for iguanas, because all Dan wants to do right now is pull Herbert on top of him and watch him come apart. 

He satisfies himself with petting Herbert’s hair, listening to the sigh he lets out as tears tickle and dry on Dan’s chest. 

“What were you saying earlier?” Dan asks, not caring, just missing the sound of Herbert’s voice. 

“When?” 

“About iguanas? Amniotic fluid.” 

“Oh.” Herbert clears his throat, makes no real move to get off Dan’s chest. “The iguanas that live in this jungle haven’t changed, evolutionarily, in hundreds of millions of years…” 

Dan keeps petting Herbert’s hair, falling into a doze, lulled by the sensation of Herbert close by and his voice filling their tent. 

* * *

Herbert hadn’t really expected that he’d seen the last of Carl Hill when he and Dan had fled Arkham, but he certainly had hoped to have a good long time to prepare himself for whatever fresh attack was inevitably coming. When Hill shows up in the small town on the west coast where they’ve made their new home and laboratory, Herbert is ready in theory. 

In practice, not as much. 

Hill’s had somebody build him a sort of mobility chair since Arkham, and while Herbert has to admire it as a step up from the bat wings, it’s an entirely different kind of ridiculous. The chair is like a mechanical spider with Hill’s head perched on top, and it moves fast-- Herbert loses it twice in the lab before he manages to goad Hill into staying in one place. 

“So this is your solution? A bodiless cyborg now, are you?” Herbert says with as much scorn as he can put into his voice, relying on Hill’s need for admiration while his eyes dart frantically through the basement lab, looking for something he can use as a weapon. 

“It’s served me well.” Hill hisses. “It’s gotten me here, at any rate. Here to see you dead, once and for all.” 

Herbert laughs. “You’ve failed to kill me twice now, Dr. Hill, I’d have thought you’d grow bored of it.” He starts inching his way towards the shelves by the stairs, covered in books and certainly heavy enough to crush an overgrown arachnid. 

“It is you who have failed to die.” Hill grins. “But no more. You thought you could run away with young Mr. Cain, did you?” 

“Leave Daniel out of this.” Herbert snaps, fury flushing up his neck. Hill laughs. 

“I’ve been watching your home for a while now. Waiting for a good moment to pounce. Tell me, what will he do when he comes home and finds your corpse? Is your serum ready? Would your lover even choose that for you?” 

Herbet flinches in spite of himself. “This is an awfully weak attempt to get under my skin.” He is by the bookshelf now. Hill need only move forward an inch and he’ll be within range. 

“Is it?” Hill sneers. “Perhaps I ought to try a more direct approach.” And he scuttles towards Herbert and jumps on him, and Herbert is too slow with the bookshelf. Hill’s mechanical apparatus has a number of surgical implements attached, which he uses to slash at Herbert as he falls. There’s blood leaking from his side. Herbert tries to push the thing off him but it holds fast, mechanical pincers digging into flesh, and Hill is laughing. 

“I will see you die for what you did to me, Herbert West. And I’ll leave you and Mr. Cain to decide how to pick up the pieces.” Herbert scrabbled frantically, ineffectively, trying to throw Hill off of him. Hill just laughs again.

Then suddenly he hears the door to the house close above them. Hill looks up at the stairs, distracted, and that is all Herbert needs to fling him away. “Dan!” He shouts as he stands, not caring about how shrill his voice sounds.

The door to the basement slams open and Dan comes pounding down the stairs carrying the baseball bat he still keeps by the door just as Herbert struggles to his feet and sees Hill struggling to right himself across the room. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Dan says as he takes in the scene in the basement, and Herbert holds out a hand. 

“The bat, please.” 

“Should I go get the gun..?”

“ _The bat_.” Herbert leans towards Dan and grabs the tool, wincing as the movement pulls at his injured chest. He makes his way across the room to where Hill is still scrabbling uselessly against the stone floor. 

“West.” Hill hisses, glaring up at him. “Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me.” 

“Oh, I believe your time is up.” Herbert says with a gleam in his eye. “You are far, far past your expiration date and don’t intend to deal with you again.” And with that he brings the bat down, hard, on Hill’s skull. 

Herbert can hear Dan come up beside him as he continues to smash the remains of Hill and his mechanical spider into the floor, can feel Dan’s hands take his and gently take the bat away long after Hill has been reduced to shards and ooze. Dan’s hands on his shoulders, Dan’s voice, soft and anxious. 

“It’s done.” Dan says. “It’s done, Herbert, stop.” 

Herbert looks at him, wants to tuck himself into Dan’s arms and bury his face in his shoulder, but now that the adrenaline coursing through him is starting to ebb away he is becoming more aware of the blood spreading across his chest. He touches the wound and looks at his fingers. 

Dan’s expression shifts into panic. If Herbert could speak he would try to soothe him, but nothing comes out when he opens his mouth and so he raises his hand to Dan’s face, cups his cheek. 

Dan is shouting but Herbert can’t hear it. 

He feels himself falling, and the last thing he thinks before he closes his eyes is that he trusts Dan to catch him, whatever that entails, whatever the consequences. 

Herbert wakes disoriented in the dark. For one terrifying moment he thinks of the grave, of being buried, and then he realizes he is warm and comfortable and relaxes slightly. He’s in bed. And it isn’t completely dark after all, there’s a thin strip of light under the door of the room. 

When he reaches for the lamp on his bedside table his hand finds only empty air, and he blinks. Not his room then, Dan’s. The idea of being tucked up in Dan’s bed sends a frisson of emotion through him, and he lays back down so he can inhale the scent of him on the pillows. He seems to be alive and not reanimated, but a small superstitious part of him he’s never quite been able to entirely rid himself of wonders if he’s made it to some sort of afterlife. They’ve made a mistake, if that’s the case. 

Herbert lets himself drift, not wanting to find out if he’s wrong, if he’s dead, if he isn’t lying in Dan’s bed with his injuries bandaged and his reactions sluggish from drugs or dehydration or something else. He realizes, in a hazy, half-attended way, how new it is to want to be alive. He’s a bit too tired to do anything about it just now, though. It’s pleasant and unusual to be so content, and he wonders if there’s any hope of it lasting if he allows himself to fall completely asleep again, or if the nightmares that have plagued him on and off since he stopped using the reagent as a stimulant will return. 

He’s saved from having to find out by the door opening. Dan is backing into the room, carrying two mugs and a container of pills which he sets on the bedside table. He turns the lamp on and Herbert gets a good look at his face as he settles on the edge of the bed. He looks completely exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, several days worth of stubble on his jaw. His mouth is set in a grim line which slackens into shock when he finally looks at Herbert and sees him looking back. 

“Herbert, thank god.” Dan’s voice breaks. “ _Thank god_ , I thought you…” He takes Herbert’s hand and grips it tightly. 

“I’m still here.” Herbert says with a weak smile, recalling, suddenly and sharply, watching Dan regain consciousness after being shot in Peru. Feeling utterly helpless as tears spilled from his eyes with the relief of not losing Dan. Is that what Dan’s feeling now? 

“It’s been _days_ , Herbert, I thought…” Dan runs the hand not crushing Herbert’s in a tight grip through his hair. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He offers, squeezing Dan’s hand back, wanting more but unsure how to initiate it. 

“It’s not your fault, if it’s anyone’s it’s Hill’s but that’s taken care of. He really made a mess of the lab, you’ll probably have to start from scratch on the latest batch of reagent once you’re back on your feet.” Dan says, looking at Herbert with a smile in his eyes. Herbert smiles back, suddenly aching with it. With how much he loves Dan and how glad he is to see him. 

Dan moves to pick up the soup and Herbert struggles upright and catches Dan’s hand before it can reach the bedside table. “Daniel…” He begins, and then stops. He has never been good at this. 

Dan waits, holding Herbert’s hands in both of his, and Herbert, in lieu of struggling to put words to his feelings, pulls Dan into a hug. Dan’s longer hair tickles his nose, and Dan grips him tightly, the shaky sigh that goes through him setting Herbert trembling, as well.

And then, just as Herbert’s started to melt into it, his eyes drifting closed again, Dan kisses his neck. It’s gentle, almost chaste, but it sets Herbert’s heart racing. His hands clutch convulsively at the back of Dan’s shirt. 

“Do that again.” Herbert says, not caring how his voice sounds, demanding and needy. Dan pulls back, cups his face in both hands, his warm brown eyes studying Herbert’s face like he intends to memorize it. “Please, Dan.” He can see Dan looking at his lips, deliberately pouts for him, and is rewarded by a breath of laughter.

Dan takes his time with the kiss, slow and methodical, and Herbert’s hands come up to clutch at his hair, the back of his neck. 

Herbert has never been kissed like this, like it matters. Like he’s something precious. It shakes something apart inside of him, something he’d worked very hard to keep held together, and when Dan’s mouth moves from his lips to his jaw and down his throat he all but sobs with it. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” It comes out a plea, desperate and begging, and Dan sucks a mark into his neck, nuzzles at his chest just below the collar of the soft t-shirt he’s dressed in. 

His head is still foggy from sleep and hurt and medication but he’s alive, he’s _alive_ , he and Dan are alive and they’ve made it. This is something they’ve been crashing towards, inevitable, tumultuous, for years, and they’re here at last. Herbert lets it wash over him, holds Dan close, feels them both breathing. 

Dan doesn’t go any further, instead lays down and gets comfortable on Herbert’s uninjured side, but it’s perfect. Dan keeps kissing him, and he kisses Dan back, trailing his hands through Dan’s hair and up under the edge of his sweater, and it’s _perfect_. Sweet, as he hadn’t dared to hope it would be. 

“Get some rest, Daniel, you look terrible.” Herbert says on the tail end of a kiss to the corner of Dan’s eye, and Dan laughs. 

“I’ve spent the last two days worried about you, how do you expect me to look?” 

“Only the last two days?” Herbert teases, and Dan swats him lightly but closes his eyes, grinning. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” _And every day after that_ , Herbert thinks, his chest tight. 

Herbert is alive, and safe, and in Dan’s bed and Dan’s arms, and completely content. Everything else can wait until later.


End file.
